


Self-Care: Shower Orange Edition

by Trish47



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Teachers, Banter, Co-workers, Coffee, F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, High School, Inappropriate Humor, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Pining if you squint, Showers, self-care, shower orange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2019-09-24
Packaged: 2020-10-27 06:26:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20755817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trish47/pseuds/Trish47
Summary: As a new teacher, Rey feels like she should stay late and get work done. Ben disagrees. He proposes some odd self-care in the form of homework: eating a shower orange.





	Self-Care: Shower Orange Edition

**Author's Note:**

  * For [VeriLee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeriLee/gifts).

> This was written in response to VeriLee's adorable moodboard (below). I've always enjoyed that picture of Adam with the orange. What great inspiration! I hope you'll enjoy this little bit of fluff and flirtation.

After school dismissed, Rey quickly discovered the faculty workroom became a desolate place. Not exactly what she’d expected considering the generally accepted belief that teachers toiled well into supper time grading papers, designing lessons, and creating slideshows. Then again, it was only the second week of endless pre-tests and data gathering: there wasn't much teaching involved, yet.

That meant veteran teachers had managed to hold onto their summer promises of attempting a decent work-life balance. Rey remained. How could anyone possibly leave early when she was swimming in uncompleted tasks? Though only Wednesday, she felt buried under assignments and lists of information. Full control and understanding of the online gradebook continued to elude her, she was still trying to memorize personal details about her students from their first day questionnaires, and there was a whole unit on Earth’s tectonic plates to map out.

Rey ground her teeth together, needing the physical discomfort to keep her from acknowledging how overwhelmed she was and crying from frustration. That wouldn’t solve anything. She had to prove herself; she had to show her colleagues and Principal Organa they chose the right candidate for the position. Taking a breath, Rey squared her shoulders and faced down another hour’s worth of work.

Ben Solo -- perhaps the only teacher who hadn’t openly committed to balance -- strode through the open passage connecting the science and math workrooms a few minutes later. Her eyes darted up, then back to her computer. She couldn’t let herself get distracted.

And the man was a distraction, head to toe. A green and white plaid shirt -- different from the others he’d sported during pre-service week, leaving her to wonder just how many he owned and if he ever tired of wearing flannel -- stretched over his broad chest. It was still tucked tightly into his waistline, showing off his slim but muscular frame. The black pants hugging his hips were on the brink of violating dress code. Other parts of his attire looked more relaxed: rolled sleeves to the elbows; mirrored aviators on his head; opened buttons at his throat. The tie he’d been wearing at lunch duty was missing entirely.

Ben Solo was the cool teacher, even if he taught calculus. He was the type girls wrote on their eyelids to flirt with -- or would, if this were college.

“Hey, Rey.”

She snapped out of her thoughts, blinking rapidly, and smiled. “Hey, Ben.”

Talking to him brought its own set of distractions. His voice, a deep timbre when he wasn’t projecting for his instruction, was bad enough. But it also dipped her in memories of the obstacle course they’d done as part of a team-building exercise. She could still feel the spot on her lower back where his hand had lifted her through the center of a fake spider’s web without touching the ropes.

That same hand waved at her now. “Going home?”

Her smile faltered. She didn’t want to lie, but telling the truth didn’t seem acceptable either. “Not yet,” she tried. “Lots to do.”

Everyone else she'd fed that line to had reacted with knowing laughs or shaking heads. Phasma -- Rey refused to call her intimidating department chair by anything other than her surname -- had said not to stay too late. It has sure sounded like a warning.

Ben, though, stopped in his tracks. He juggled the orange he held in his hand and looked at his watch, then back to her. “It’s nearly four.”

She watched as he changed his course to navigate toward her desk. Rey did her best to stall him; she deliberately brightened her smile a few more watts. “I’ll be gone soon. Promise.”

He shook his head. “Not good enough, Green Bean. Close up shop.”

Rey rolled her eyes over the order, but a lick of heat ran up the back of her neck at hearing the nickname he’d given her on the obstacle course because of her height. “Ben, please. I have to finish an email to a parent and--”

Bending forward, he used one large finger to push her laptop lid shut. Her outraged cry only made him smile more. “You’ve got to learn to pace yourself,” he said seriously. “Indulging in some self-care every day is critical if you plan on making this a career.” He stood upright again and cocked his head, dark hair shifting to reveal large ears to go along with his massive hands. Deep brown eyes shone with mischief. “I’ll teach you.”

Maybe she wasn’t going to win this one. Maybe she shouldn’t. Maybe she should listen to him and take his advice.

“And what would you assign for homework?” she asked, crossing her arms and leaning back in her chair. Though cool and attractive, Rey didn’t want to stroke his ego too much by agreeing too fast.

Ben opened his arms at his sides, easily tossing the round fruit from one hand to the other. He lifted it like a Shakesperian prop. “Shower orange.”

One manicured eyebrow arched. “‘Shower orange’?”

Ben pulled Maz’s rolling chair to the side and rested his hip on top of her giant desk calendar. “You’ve never tried it? Oh, you have to.” His orange sat on her laptop, now an offering left on an altar. “Plus, it’ll boost your Vitamin C intake. Can’t have too much at the start of the year. Germs like you wouldn’t believe around here.”

Rey leaned forward in her chair, using her fingertips to roll the orange back and forth. “Sounds like an internet hoax. What’s so great about a shower orange?”

He huffed, hopping off the desk and adjusting his laptop satchel. “I won’t call it orgasmic,” he murmured, eyes meeting hers with another flash of mischief. This one made her toes curl into her sandals. Ben grinned and added, “But that’s the right word. It’s a magical sensory experience.”

She gave him her best skeptical expression. “That good, huh?”

“Mind-blowing. That’s the level we’re talking about.” He looked at her and the orange expectantly.

Rey sighed and stood from her desk, reaching her arms up in a much needed stretch. She gathered her most critical papers, car keys, and coffee cup. She added the orange to her bag last. “Somehow I doubt it will live up to your hype.”

“Only one way to find out,” he responded as he followed her out of the workroom, shutting off the light on the way through the door. “Do your homework. Just be prepared to be delighted.”

* * *

She couldn't believe he talked her into this. And it hadn’t even taken much convincing, if she was being honest. He'd planted the idea in her head and the orange on her desk; that's all he'd had to do to spark her curiosity and eliminate her excuses.

She had to shower. She had an orange. She liked both of those things, individually. Why not together?

The shower orange was happening.

Rey washed first. If she was going to eat something, she wanted to be clean and suds-free. It was weird enough, but she’d committed to trying it out, even if she never told Ben. Thinking about admitting she’d done her homework, so to speak, made color rush to her cheeks. It was more than simply eating an orange. It was eating an orange. . .naked. And Ben would know that.

Would he picture it? Was he picturing it now?

Rey pushed her face under the waterstream until the thoughts trickled away. Holding the fruit up to her nose, she inhaled. While it certainly carried its distinct citrus aroma, she couldn't say it was any different than smelling a regular orange at the market.

And then her nails bit into the peel.

Suddenly, the orange’s scent flooded her olfactory receptors. Bright and sharp, it sang in her nose as she continued to strip the orange of its protective layers, dropping the pieces to the shower floor like forgotten clothing.

Maybe it was all in her mind -- or stemmed from the memory of Ben uttering the word 'orgasmic' -- but there was something. . ._erotic_ about the task.

After undressing her snack, Rey split the sphere in two, then pulled a wedge from the top half. She brought it to her mouth, biting down on the oblong triangle and moaning as juice sprayed on her tongue and cheeks.

It was _good._

Dammit.

Ben was going to be so smug if she ever told him he’d been right.

Another wedge followed the first. And another. She was halfway through the treat before Rey realized that maybe she should savor this experience a little. There could only be one first time.

The thought saddened her until she had a eureka moment: What else could she eat in the shower? Surely there had to be other delicious things she could consume while water pulsed on her back and steam rose around her.

The rest of her shower was spent deep in hypotheses, chewing the remains of her orange thoughtfully and wondering which food item she was going to experiment with first: frozen grapes or chocolate kisses. A data spreadsheet began to form in her mind with possible variables: temperature, snack size, skin porousness, glucose levels.

Rey licked the juice from her fingers before the waterstream could steal away the sticky remnants, ready to exit the shower and record her thoughts.

* * *

Watching the rapid drips of rich-smelling coffee was her personal form of morning meditation. Mug in hand, she waited for the Maxwell House to finish brewing.

Half in a trance, she felt a shadow manifest in flesh behind her. “Morning, Green Bean.”

A grunt of acknowledgement was all she could manage. How he could look so awake and fresh at this ungodly hour was a mystery. He was probably one of those teachers who got up for an obscenely early workout before heading to school.

“With his muscles? Absolutely,” she muttered, not meaning to voice it at all.

“Having a talk with Mr. Coffee?” he teased.

Rey humphed again. He was going to think she’d stepped out of the Neolithic Age soon.

He circled to her side and propped his hip on the bookshelf housing their communal coffee pot. Rey smiled at his pose; he was forever holding up some piece of furniture or wall with his slim hips or broad shoulders. She wondered if, perhaps, he didn’t like standing at his full height because he towered over people.

Rey liked that about him. She liked many things about Ben Solo, but having to incline her head ever so slightly to meet his eyes was one of the small, exciting ones. “What?”

“You look tired,” he commented. “And I know I led you out of here at a reasonable hour. You didn’t come back, did you?” He put one hand over his heart as if the idea alone wounded him.

Rey’s eyes returned to the coffee, trying to hide the grin threatening to spring to her lips. “No. I was up late.”

“Sounds more promising. With--” He cut himself off, cleared his throat, and amended, “Doing what?”

The false start kicked her heart into overdrive as if she'd taken a shot of espresso. Maz, the seasoned physics teacher and her deskmate, had let her know early on that no one had yet succeeded in sweeping ‘young master Solo’ off his feet. Rey had spent a decent amount of time during her study block reflecting on how she’d caught him watching her at the pre-service faculty events on more than one occasion. Especially when she’d learned of his single status.

She wanted him to firmly understand no one was in the picture for her either, so she said the most unromantic thing she could think of (which also happened to be true): “Recording data.”

“Data?” He frowned dramatically. “That doesn’t fall under the approved Five After School S-s.”

Her brows knit together as she reached for the coffee pot. “What are the Five S-s?”

“Surfing, supper, shower, sex, and sleep. Not necessarily in that order.”

Ben smirked; he may have even winked at her. In either case, the way his face lit up and the way his eyes sparkled distracted Rey enough that she overpoured her cup, splashing the scalding-hot liquid on the curve of her hand between her thumb and forefinger. She let the mug go, unleashing a string of expletives she was lucky there were no students around to overhear. She didn’t need to get fired the first week because she let an F-bomb drop.

Rey drew her hand up to her mouth, closing her lips over the sting to offer some relief and to physically keep her from swearing.

“Shit,” Ben supplied in her place, setting his own mug on the bookshelf and reaching for her injured hand. “Is it bad?”

Rey relinquished her hand to him. His were warm and gentle -- not what she’d expected considering their size, their power. Thanks to Maz’s teasing remark about his marching band days, Rey also knew they had the dexterity to play the flute.

She may have spent at least one faculty meeting thinking about Ben Solo’s appendages, hands among them.

He brought hers close to his face, examining the pinkening skin closely and blowing softly on the spot. The stream of air came out long and steady. Hairs on her forearm began sticking up as little goosebumps broke out over her skin. She tingled everywhere.

“Does it hurt?” he asked quietly as he inhaled to replenish his breath.

Her voice croaked. And not from lack of caffeine. The intensity of his eyes made her squirm in his light grasp. “A little.”

“It’s a workplace hazard.” He blew on the spot again, shorter this time because he added: “This is my fault.”

“No, Ben. It’s fine. I--”

His lips pressed to her skin, and her sentence ended on a squeak.

They were soft. So unbelievably soft.

“Ben.” The second time she said his name, it came out on a sigh. She lowered her chin to downplay the flush she could feel on her face.

Was this really happening?

She had her confirmation a moment later when the principal, Ben’s own mother, walked into the workroom and froze in the doorway. There was a coffee cup in her hand. Rey had noticed the mother and son had something of a ritual -- on certain mornings, they met briefly to share a coffee and talk about things outside of work. It usually made her smile to know the principal used just as much hazelnut creamer as she did while Ben went without cream or sugar.

“I see I’ve interrupted something,” Principal Organa said, drawing her shoulders together. Instead of frowning, her lips drew into a wider smile. “I’ll come back.”

“Mrs. Organa--” Rey began in a stammer as the older woman faded back into the passageway. She tried to yank her hand from Ben’s grasp, but his hold was firm. “Ben!”

He smiled against her skin. “What?”

“Your mother. . .my boss. . .” She didn’t know how to articulate how embarrassed she felt, then realized her embarrassment made it seem like she was worried about this scene being interpreted as improper. Worried because it was. Because she cared.

She cared about him and the flirtation or whatever it was going on between them. In truth, she wanted Ben to use his lips on more than her hand. She wanted him to kiss a different burn. Rey made a noise somewhere between a whimper and a growl. What was she going to do?

Ben lifted his mouth from her hand a scant inch, tracing the tip of his long nose over the area. He inhaled, eyes flicking up to hers. “Do I smell. . .orange?”

He couldn’t possibly. Rey still didn’t want to admit she’d eaten an orange in the shower simply because he’d suggested it. “I ate it for breakfast,” she fibbed.

His arch look didn’t say he believed her. Suddenly, his upper body leaned forward, crowding her space until her face was almost buried in the collar of his shirt. At this distance, she could smell his body wash -- more pungent than what she’d caught a whiff of late yesterday afternoon.

Ben’s nose rooted into the hair on the crown of her head, breathing in again. He hummed, shifting his head lower and loosely clasping strands near her left ear, inhaling like a bloodhound searching for evidence. His low voice rumbled straight into her eardrum, making her shake. “I think you took my advice, Green Bean, and did your homework.”

She wouldn’t admit it. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“Tell me,” he continued, drawing back just enough to look her in the eyes. “Was it good? Did it blow your mind?”

How could she breathe, let alone respond, when he was looking at her so intensely? His voice was teasing, but his eyes gave him away. He was flirting with her. Openly and with intention.

“It was messy,” she replied, truthfully. “But I can report seeing the appeal.”

He groaned, but smiled nonetheless. “Don’t take after the English department. No puns.”

“I’ll stick to science,” she agreed, laughing at herself and his pained reaction. “As I started to explain with the data collection, I have a rather important research experiment to conduct, thanks to you.”

“You do?”

She nodded. “I’ve got to find out what other foods I can eat in the shower. Not just which ones. But the best ones.”

Humored, he turned and poured them both a cup of coffee, making sure hers was only half full so she could add in creamer. “Sounds like quite a process.”

Rey stepped around him and opened the fridge, bending over to dig the creamer out from behind the cases of water bottles someone had left behind for the math league. Behind her, Ben cleared his throat.

“Yes,” she said, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she stood upright. “It’ll probably take months of showers. Might go right to Christmas break.”

“That so?” He cleared his throat again, then took a long sip of coffee. “Sounds like something a research partner could help with.”

“Do you know anyone with the prerequisite qualifications?” She batted her eyelashes at him, stirred in her creamer until the dark liquid became almost beige. “They must love getting wet, eating, and having their mind blown on a regular basis.”

“Ah,” he said. “Well, in that case, I think you should know that I’m like the knock-off version of Aquaman, I have a voracious appetite, and I like to be blown almost as much as I like to do the blowing.”

Rey’s hand shook at the promise in his voice, the subtext beneath the teasing. She lifted her mug, holding it out as if ready to say cheers. “Consider yourself hired.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to remain a one-shot. But if you're interested in teacher fics, I have another one coming out soon-ish where Ben and Rey are SAT proctors and write fic together.


End file.
